


Frustration

by Vampyric_Rose



Series: Leramn Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampyric_Rose/pseuds/Vampyric_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a failed attempt at slaying a dragon, Leramn returns to camp defeated, angry and most of all frustrated. She spends some time to herself to allvieate her frustration and indulge in some well earned pleasure. She isn't the only one who enjoys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustration

Leramn and her party were finally finishing up a long expedition through the Hinterlands. It had been a long couple of weeks they had spent running across the rugged landscape doing whatever that was needed of them. In this case helping war wracked villages recover from the constant battles of apostate mages and rouge Templars and destroying all those rifts and the demons which manifested through them. The inhabitants had been happy, especially the young lad who’d lost his precious ram Lord Woolsley. 

They were making haste to leave, the horses were saddled and loaded with necessary gear to make the trip back. She stood at the side of her Fereldan Forder petting the side of its broad neck and silently whispering to the animal who had carried across so many fields, mountains and rivers. She noticed movement from the corner of her eyes.

“Need help up my lady?” A deep voice asked and she couldn’t help but smile in response. She loved the sound of that voice, deep and rumbling with his charming accent. She turned her head to look at him, standing there with a hand outstretched and a gentle look upon his bearded face. 

“No” She answered “But I’ll take it anyways” 

She grabbed the horn of the saddle with one hand and slipped one foot into the stirrup. He bent down just enough to place an open palm under her second foot and as she lifted herself up he pushed her up with one hand and she gracefully swung her other leg over the back of her horse and onto her saddle. He admired the way her arse looked in her leather armor and cursed himself for thinking that way. She was the bloody inquisitor, the blessed Herald of Andraste and he was nothing. A coward. He backed away as she grabbed her reins and turned the horse toward him. 

“Thank you” She spoke spoftly with a grin. He merely nodded and turned to mount his steed as well. 

Just then one of Liliana’s cloaked spies came to her side, a piece of rolled parchment tied in her hand.   
“A parchment from the Nightingale” She spoke 

“What’s this about?” 

“I don’t know my lady. Only that it was urgent” 

She unfurled the paper and quickly scanned the note. When she looked up again, the agent was gone.   
Dragon spotted northeast from Dusklight Camp.   
This could be beneficial to the Inquisition both for resources and reputation.  
~Liliana

 

She sighed and rerolled the paper. Of course she knew that they were in Dusklight Camp and ready to leave. 

“What did the message say” Cassandra asked

“Yes yes, no secrets Inquisitor” Dorian replied turning his steed to face her. 

 

“A dragon’s been spotted not far from here. Liliana wants us to look into it. Says the Inquisition’s reputation could benefit” She replied dully. 

“No doubt a request made by the ambassador” Dorian replied stroking his finely groomed mustache. 

“She is right. A dragon kill would boost your reputation as being a strong warrior and our foes may not take you as lightly” The seeker added

“A dragon though. Maker knows the fight will be tough” The mage replied

“Blackwall. What is your opinion on the matter” Leramn asked

“I can’t say for sure. Haven’t hunted a grown dragon, but they don’t tell legends about hero’s fighting dragons for nothing. It’ll certainly be a risk Inquisitor, but this group’s as strong as any. Even with pretty boy over there” He spoke gesteruing towards the mage. 

“I am pretty aren’t I, glad you finally noticed. Didn’t know I was your type though” He retorted. 

Blackwall’s lips turned into a scowl.

“Boys” Leramn spoke and the two of them shut up immedidatly.

“Inquisitor” They responded simultaneously putting aside their petty fight for the women who lead them into battle and victory day after day.

“Lets have a go at this dragon and we’ll head home to celebrate” She announced. 

She turned her horse and started at a brisk pace down the slopes and into the valley below. The valley would have been beautiful had it not been laid waste by fire and bone. There were smaller dragonlings running around fighting each other over scraps of flesh and bone amongst the ash and char. Some of the valley had not been torched by fire but as they rode through the valley and path got smaller and smaller the life around them grew less and less. 

“I expected it to be…..hotter” Dorian spoke 

“Perhaps the report was wrong. Perhaps there is no dragon. Or perhaps it is already dead” Cassandra spoke.

“Perhaps” Started Blackwell. “It very well could have flown off, but I doubt the villagers in this area have the strength or gall to slay a full grown dragon”

The stallion beneath her nickered nervously and she watched as the horse’s ears flicked back and forth quickly. “He’s nervous” She muttered. She patted his neck before dismounting gracefully. 

Blackwall watched as she got down from her horse with a liquid grace and comforted the creature with soft words and gentle eyes. There were many things about this women that he found himself attracted to. As a warrior she was strong, ruthless, fearless, and every single one of those qualities made her a great leader but she was also gentle and with the kindest heart he’d seen in a long time. 

“We should clear out the area, leave the horses here and travel the rest by foot” She spoke “We don’t want them bolting off if there’s a fight”

“As you wish” Cassandra spoke, dismounting and brandishing her two handed great axe. 

It wasn’t long before they had rid the area of the smaller dragon creatures, hastily stuffing dragon scales and teeth into their packs. She led them through the last leg of the valley. The sides of the mountains towering above them and with a firm grip on her bow she scanned the high walls and skies with her golden elven eyes. The girth of the valley had decreased significantly and it wasn’t long before it emptied into a closed off circle of mountain. Yet there was no sign of the great dragon. 

“Perhaps Liliana was wrong indeed” Leramn spoke. She pushed her way from her spot in the back of the group past Dorian and Cassandra. They were all on high alert. She could see it in the tenseness of their muscles and Cassandra had he lips pressed in a thin line gripping the haft of her axe tighter than usual. She was about to walk out past Blackwall when the thundering sound of wings flapping echoed across the mountains. His arm reached out and blocked her path and she heard the scape of metal as he drew his sword from its scabbard. 

“Perhaps not” He spoke releasing her bony shoulder from his grasp and grabbing his shield from his broad shoulders. “Step back my lady”

She nodded, falling back to her position at the back and grabbing her bow and an arrow from her quiver, drawing it quickly, aiming it at nothing, but ready to fire at any time. The next few moments were the tensest she’d felt. Her heightened sense picked up on the small sounds, the hitch of breath, the nervous grasping of cloth, the clanking of metal armor against itself. Every sound was intensified. 

From behind the great mountain in front of them the great dragon descended from the sky, its scale’s seeming to catch fire under the glare of the bright sun, nearly blinding her. Its massive leathery wings sounded like thunder as it flapped them slowly landing on the charred ground in front of them. The earth shook under her feet and she gazed into the blood lust eyes and gaping maw of the great dragon before her. Legend did not give the creature justice and she found herself in awe of the power that emanated from her. 

She watched as the great beast tilted its head back and let out an ear shattering roar and saw the flames grow at the base of its throat. 

“Move!” She commanded just as the dragon unleashed a torrent of flame in their direction. She dodge rolled out of the way in time but felt the suffocating heat behind her, the flames inches from her and she could smell burning hair. She stood quickly, her bow at the ready as she scanned her party. She sighed in relief. Maker they were all okay. Dorian had easily thrown a barrier up for himself and Cassandra stood tall behind Blackwall’s large metal shield. 

“Lets go” She commanded and she took off running towards the dragon. 

“Right behind you” Blackwall yelled, his shield up in front of him

“Just avoid the fire” Dorian added

The run across the valley was exhilarating. She knew she was going up against a creature that with a single swipe of its massive claws or tail she’d be thrown against the side of a mountain or burnt to ash in a matter of seconds. The thrill of the hunt, a tradition that all Dalish Elves knew, ran through her and every one of her senses were in overload. The dragon was her prey and it would not escape her. The rush of adrenaline gave her a massive high greater than any hunt she’d been on before and she felt her blood hum and body throb in places she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t unpleasant, infact it made her want to fight even more. Her body craved the hunt, the power. She looked to Blackwall, running across the open field, his shield in front of him, sword drawn at his side, a true solider in battle and she felt the throbbing down there intensify more. Maker what power he embodied as well. She wanted him. She wanted to show him that she was strong enough to take down a dragon and therefore worthy of his bed. Her thoughts however pleasant were distracting her and she shook them off to focus on the battle. 

She heard shouting behind her and saw Cassandra moving quickly to her left moving with grace while carrying a weapon who weighed as much as her. She was the first to make contact with the dragon, slamming her axe into its broad right foreleg. It let out a roar of defiance and she dodged the incoming swipe of its massive foot. Leramn docked an arrow and let it loose sending it towards the same leg hoping to get the dragon to fall before them. She heard Blackwall’s hoarse battle cry as he met the dragon and slammed his shield into the thick hide of its other leg, its attention switched from Cassandra and he fought off the dangerous swipes of its claws and snaps of its mighty jaws. 

She continued to let her arrows fly, as many as she could, each hitting their target and burying themselves in the exposed flesh Cassandra had created. But as many arrows as she let loose, the dragon’s leg still seemed to stay strong and the battle seemed to drag on. She watched as the dragon’s blood splashed across Cassandras face and armor as she struck blow after heavy blow cutting down to the bone of the dragons leg but the dragon still held strong. She knew it was to be a tough fight but even Cassandra’s strength was beginning to falter. She watched as fire magic snaked its way up the dragon but seemed to have no effect and she looked to the mage who looked out of breath but still determined to keep fighting. Perhaps the fire mage wasn’t the best choice for this fight, then again they had been short on time for planning. 

She took her eyes off the dragon for too long and in that moment she heard the muffled sounds of shouting and watched as the dragon picked up a massive foreleg and swiped across the battlefield. Blackwall dodged backwards, the dragon’s claws barely scraping against the front of his armor, but she watched in horror as Cassandra was sent flying into the dirt many yards away.

“Cassandra!” She shouted watching her friend for movement. Her arrows stopped for a moment and the clamor of shield against hide stopped. She caught the movement of Blackwall heading back towards the warrior. Blackwall ran to her his shield up to protect himself of incoming fire and stood before the female warrior. The warrior lay still for a few moments before her hand clutched around the handle of her axe and she started to rise, rather shakily. He grasped her open hand and helped her up.   
“I am fine” She spoke to him, a thin trail of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. “Is the Inquisitor okay” She asked wiping it away, smearing it. 

Blackwall glanced across the field watching the elven rouge hastily retreated back towards Dorian who had just cast a Barrier spell for the party.   
“It appears so” He mumbled. The dragon was tough and his heart nearly beat out of his chest worrying about the safety of their Inquisitor. His Lady. It was wrong for him to call her that, for she was not his own and she never would be. But right now she didn’t need a sentimental fool, she needed his shield and he would protect her with his life. 

He stood in a daze for a second when he heard the Inquisitor screech out in despair from across the field. 

“Dorian!” She shouted and his calculating blue eyes snapped to the mage who lay on the ground, the area around him singed.   
He watched her drop to the ground and turn the Tevinter man over roughly. She pressed a long delicate ear to his chest and press thin fingers to the side of his neck. Her eyes frantic as she struggled to find a sign of life. He watched her body relax as she drew her ear and finger away. The last remaining seconds of his barrier, although weak had saved his life. As much as the two of them didn’t get along he knew that he was a very dear friend to her. 

She hated to give up, it was weakness. She knew within hours people would know of the failure and that angered her but mostly she was frustrated with herself. The warriors beside her were strong and she was weak. It was her fault they were losing this battle. Who else should take the blame? But as much as defeat wounded her pride she would not risk the lives of her dear friends, and the man she was falling in love with. 

“Fall back” She growled. She swung her bow across her back and placed the unused arrow in her quiver. 

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra questioned holding her side attempting to hold her large weapon at the same time.

She glanced back towards the dragon and saw that its large wings began to beat as it lifted itself from the ground. No doubt heading towards them “Don’t argue with me now. Let’s get to the horses and get out of here before it reaches us again. Dorian can’t fight and won’t let the rest of you die for a lost cause” She paused. Blackwall stared her in the eyes, they told all. He saw something in them he’d felt himself a million times. Self-doubt. Anger. Pity. Regret. Hate. He wished he could take them away because maker he knew they ate away at your very soul.

She brushed a hand across Dorian cheek. The right side of his body had varying degrees of burns, some raw and pink while others had charring and blisters. Part of the right side of his face was burnt and most of his hair had been singed off on that side. His cloak was in tatters, what remained of it that was. 

“It seems I’ve had a taste of my own medicine. I dare say, being on fire is not as fun as I thought” He joked. “My hair will take weeks to return to its full glory” He added and she rolled her eyes. Always in the name of fashion and excellent appearances. 

“Can you ride?” She asked softly

“A quick sip of elfroot and I shall be good to go. At least for the trip back. I shall require healing magic when we return. Some of these burns look dreadful” He spoke with a disgusted curl of his lip. He reached into his pack and procured a green tinted potion, tipping it back quickly. 

“If were leaving let’s get out of here. Quickly” Blackwall spoke

They made their way back to the horses in record time. They were nervous and it took them a few minutes to calm them down. Once they were mounted Leramn urged her Forder into a hard gallop, the others following suit behind her, the sound of hooves against hard earth and bone echoing across the valley. Leramn stopped twice to help the staggering Seeker but was quickly batted away. With their escape secured, the group made their way back to Dusklight camp. 

It was nearly nightfall when they returned and upon seeing the tents the only thing Leramn could think of was their failure. Her failure. There was never a challenge that this dedicated group of people could not overcome and she felt as though it was entirely her fault that they were not able to slay the dragon. They were all counting on her and she cursed herself when she looked to the elated faces of those who were still left at the camp. 

Most of them were gone, headed back to Skyhold in preparation no doubt of the celebration that would follow the exciting news that the Inquisitor had slayed a dragon. But there would be no celebration, no wine, and no parties here. For she had failed to slay the dragon and almost got two of her friends killed in the process. She handed her horse off to an eager stable boy, no doubt waiting to hear the epic tale of victory. But he got no story, only the reins of a tired horse and a look of utter disappointment. She turned and pushed past the rest of her group who stood with sullen looks upon their faces as they too handed away their mounts. 

“Might I draw the lady a bath?” A solider spoke attempting to catch up to the elven women’s long stride. 

“No” She responded coldly. “I’ll retire to my tent for the night” 

“I’ll take that bath!” She heard Dorian call. 

She wandered away from the noises of camp to her tent she’d had set up secluded from the others. She didn’t not like them, but as an elf she needed her space from them and to be closer to the sounds around her. She pushed the flap of her large tent opened and sucked in a breath of cool air and looked up. Portions of her in the top of her tent had been removed for her so that she may look at the stars as she slept at night. If there was one thing she missed about being a simple Dalish elf, it was sleeping outside. She removed her bow and quiver from her back and set them on the ground, propping them up against the side of her tent. 

She sat down on her pile of furs and removed her leather armor leaving her in her breastband and soft leggings. She stretched her arms in front of her and kneaded the aching muscles of her arms and shoulders.   
Maker be damned she was angry. She had not expected the battle to go like that and the feel of defeat slithered into her mind. How could she let the group fail, worse, how could she let the almost be killed. Cassandra and Dorian were nearly slain and even Blackwall, steadfast and strong was wavering at the end of the fight. Clearly they weren’t ready for this kind of fight. She should have listened to Blackwall earlier. 

She needed to sleep, so that tomorrow they would be ready to head back to Skyhold and she could tell the whole castle that she had failed to slay the dragon, if their spymaster didn’t already know. But she was beside herself with anger and frustration coursed through her. She needed to release some of this frustration if she was ever going to sleep. She sighed heavily, knowing what she could do to help relieve this stress. She was away from the rest of the group but the thought of doing something so embarrassing, so close to the others?

She laid down and tried to close her eyes, tried to will herself to go to sleep, but so many thoughts ran through her head and she could feel her body pulsing from anger and frustration, the throbbing that was centered at her core, begging for relief. She gave into the need. The need to feel those moments of pleasure as she brought herself over the edge. The image of the warden, her sword and shield burned into her mind. The throbbing painfully intensified. 

He watched as the remainder of the camp settled into their tents for the night. There was less banter now and it was all but quiet save for a few whispered conversations. He picked up his shield and quietly drifted away from the rest of camp. As he reached his own tent and started to pull back the flap he noticed the Inquisitors in in the near distance. Her lamp was still on and he wondered why she was still up. Clearly she’d removed herself from the rest of the group so she could be alone and sleep. But if she felt anything like he had, distraught and angry with the way the battle turned out, he knew there was no way she’d find sleep anytime soon. After a moment of thought he placed his weapons just inside his tent, secured the flap and made his way to her tent. 

It was a short walk there, but he knew she liked her distance. He’d never been close to an elf before, but he knew of their ways and ties to nature, not to mention she was not unlike himself who prefer the quiet of nature and solidarity. He had always been alone, until now. The thought of being close to another living being scared him, not to mention a women as beautiful as herself. She paid him so much attention, had stated before her affection for him and suggested many times her feelings were not limited to just friendship. However as much as he wanted to give in, to succumb to the feelings he had towards her, he knew he could not. For her sake. He had nothing to give her. He was a bloody liar and a coward, no women, especially her, deserved that.

His resolve to go and see her faltered. What use would more negativity bring when he knew she was already coming down on herself about it? She was such a strong women, never backed down from anything that came their way, the defeat no doubt troubling her. But in that case, perhaps she’d want company. The decision weighed heavily on his mind and he was about to return to his tent when he heard the faintest sound of a whimper. He halted all movement and strained his ears to listen for another. It came again, slightly louder than the first with a heavy exhale following it. He pinpointed the sounds to the Inquisitor’s tent and silently made his way towards it. 

He nearly reached the flap of her tent when he heard another sound, a moan, quiet and shaky but long and drawn out. He was not naïve, he had been alive for many years, had heard those sounds from women he’d pleasured. He knew what she was doing in there. No man, or women for that matter, had followed her to her tent. He felt old and dirty for creeping up to her tent and listening to the sounds she was making in the comfort of perceived solitude and yet he could not force himself to move. Yet in those few short moments of hearing only small sounds he felt more attraction, most lust than any other moment in his pathetic life. Guilt reared its ugly head. She thought him the gentlemen, a noble man, a good man. But he was nothing but a pervert listening to her like she was some common whore. 

Another sound of her pleasure pierced the air and the sound went straight to his cock, hard and throbbing. He wanted more than just sounds, although they were beautiful to listen to. He’d often wondered what beauty her armor covered. He imagined her thin lithe figure, skin over protruding bones that ordinarily would be unhealthy but were just elven in nature and added to her hunter’s body. Her moonlight skin which contrasted so much with the crimson of her hair, her golden eyes and deep violet of her Vallaslin. He thought of what the supple flesh of her arse and thighs would feel like under his hands. He wondered what her armor and breastband concealed so well. He disgusted himself, thinking of her in such a manner and of intruding upon her during such a confidential moment. But he struggled to listen to the reason in the back of his head and his body betrayed him as he opened the flap of her tent as slowly and quietly as possibly. 

He nearly came right there, like a young boy who’d just seen his first pair of tits. 

Her head was thrown back against her feather pillows her mouth stretched into a tight line. Her pale skin glowed with the moonlight above her and was flushed from the tips of her pointed ears to her flat toned stomach. She had removed most of her armor save her breastband and her under leggings. Her chest rose and fell quickly and he watched her toes curl and uncurl as her breath became hitched and she struggled to breath normally. He watched her thin fingers dip in between her legs and underneath her leggings and wanted nothing more to find out how soaked her smalls were. He stifled a moan as he watched her trace circular patterns on what he could only assume was that small bundle of nerves that would make her fall over the edge. 

She couldn’t believe how wet she was when she had started. It normally took her such a long time to get this point. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Blackwall. Even his name made the heat coil in her belly and make her whimper small moans she’d never made before. Oh Maker what was he doing to her. She slipped the tip of her finger into her opening and coated her bundle of her nerves in her own arousal. She thought about him, of the strength he embodied. He’d lifted her up onto her horse with a single hand and had not a single trouble. She imagined that strength if they were together, holding her in new ways allowing him to drive himself faster and deeper within her. She trembled at the thought, in truth she’d never been with a man, her Keeper kept her very close and even all suitable Dalish men were turned away. She had heard rumors though that human men were much…..larger than any elf. The thought excited her more.

She’d never had the pleasure of seeing him without his armor, even when she unexpectedly traveled to the barn where he spent most of his time would prove fruitless in search of what lay under all the metal and padding he wore. She had no idea of the body type he processed. But her imagination was wild and she could only imagine. How his skin stretched over the thick cords of muscle that made up his arms and powerful legs. She imagined the tan of his skin from spending many long years under the sun doing heavy physical work. The thought of a man chopping logs never appealed to her so much. His back was a wide expanse of muscle and the many scars she imagined he had from all the battles he’d fought in. She imagined sitting astride the small of his back running her hands across his back and shoulders, pressing into aching muscles and taking the time to press her lips to each scar. He’d hum his approval under her and she’d grow wetter from the sound of that deep rumble in the back of his throat. Maker his voice was enough to make her come on its own. 

She wondered what his thick beard would feel like against her soft face, scratching against the side of her neck as he kissed her pulse and how it would feel like between her thighs. Did men still do that? She’d heard of it at least. His arms were lightly covered in dark hair and she wondered how much sprouted from what she imagined as the hardness of his pecks and the flat panes of his abs. How much trailed down to between his thighs. Would it feel good as she rocked against him? Maker. She shuddered again, a low moan releasing from her throat. 

Maker’s balls she was close now. He could tell from her breathing, rapid and heavy. Her toes curled more often, the delicate movements of her fingers quicker. A small grin graced her face and he wanted to know more than anything who she was thinking about right now that was giving her so much pleasure. Or maybe he didn’t want to know, either way he wanted so badly to see her come. To see her forget about what was troubling her and to indulge herself in complete pleasure. She released another moan and his whole body shuddered. He was aching with need. He wanted her. Badly. Wanted to tear down the flap of her tent, cover her thin body with his own and thrust into what he imagined would be the tightest wettest quim he’d even had in his entire life. He’d had all manner of women before, large or small, young and old, human or dwarf, but never an elf. With one hand still holding open the flap his picked the other from the ground and palmed himself. He couldn’t imagine himself even being as hard and it took all of his restraint to not pull himself from his breeches and bring himself to his own release while she laid there in front of him. But he continued to watch, eyes fixed on every movement, stroking himself lightly through the fabric and couldn’t help the smallest grunt that escaped his lips. 

Her eyes nearly shot open. Due to the sensory overload her senses had failed to pick up the sounds from around her and she started to panic,immediatly knowing that someone was watching her. Someone, a man, had manage to slip past her defenses and actually open her tent to watch her bring herself pleasure. She thought about it carefully. She didn’t want him to know she knew he were watching her. If it was an enemy, she had the element of surprise. She had a small throwing knife strapped to her left thigh and fingered the cold metal of its handle. She continued to work herself, indulging in a few smaller moans to trick her viewer 

She laid her head to the side and continued to rub her bundle of nerves no differently. She found it odd that she was still very much aroused in spite of being watched. The moan that escaped her lips was not fake this time. With an extreme amount of caution she barely cracked one eye so she could get a glimpse of who the intruder was. She let out a heavy breathy moan as she glanced upon the face of Blackwall. His gaze upon her was so intense and she picked up his heavy breathing and soft grunts. Maker he was enjoying watching her and she found more pleasure in letting him watch. She let her fingertip grazed her folds and opening and found herself wetter then she’d ever been, enough to soak her smalls. She gently touched her hard and throbbing bundle and cried out as the pleasure started to overwhelm her. She heard a low moan come from him and it brought her that much closer.

A few more quick movements and she’d come. Come for him. Now that she knew it was him watching her, reveling in her, watching her come undone, she wanted him to see how much he was doing for her. Wanted him to know that he was the one that allowed her to have so much pleasure. Allowed her to ease the frustration and anger that had course through her and forget, if only for a moment, about the defeat they had suffered. 

He watched as movements of her fingers became faster, erratic, more violent in nature. Andraste’s tits, she was about to come, and from the looks of it, come pretty hard. He drew his gaze away from the elven goddess before him and stared into his lap, his arousal staring him back. The guilt and disgust returned to his mind, his attention drawn away from her for a moment. He removed his hand from aching prick ignoring the loss of pressure. How cowardly of him to watch her without letting her know he was there, how disgusting that a man nearly twice her age was watching her bring herself an incredible amount of pleasure. He was thinking of leaving, getting out before he saw the end so that he could try and forget what had happened here tonight, as much as he didn’t want to. However he was weak and found himself completely unable to leave. He’d regret it for the rest of life and only hoped that she’d forgive him. He sighed and let his gaze wander back to the curve of her neck and the side of her beautiful face and panic lanced through him when he realized that now one of those golden eyes were staring right back at him. 

Fuck. She saw him, knew he was there, that he had been watching her and expected her to immediately stop, get up slap him and then banish him from the Inquisition, either that or kill him on the spot. A man such as himself had no right to gaze upon her in such personal moment. But several panicked moments passed and he realized there was no yelling, she hadn’t even stopped rubbing herself and when he caught the look in her eye he groaned and nearly passed out. Her golden iris was nearly swallowed in black. Lust. Pure desire was the look she was giving him. Never had a women given him such a look, like her eyes were pleading for him to come over there and fuck her. How badly he wanted to but he sat hunched over in awe and continued to watch her work herself. The sounds that escaped her lips were unrestrained. Her moans became louder and cries became more desperate. She wanted him to hear her. She closed her eyes and her hips arched off the ground and he watched as the palm of her hand suck lower against her skin above the waist of her pants. One longer finger was inside her and he groaned imagining how his cock would feel sliding into her. A whimper escaped her and he watched as she withdrew that long finger of hers from inside of herself and away from her lady parts. 

She moaned the loss of her finger from within her and the throbbing from her clit was driving her insane, beckoning her to get the hell on with it and finish it so she could ride waves of pleasure. But there was one more thing she wanted to do first. One more thing that she needed him to see, to watch. As she withdrew her finger she knew she was completed coated in her arousal, there was so much of it, she could feel the clinging dampness of her smalls and trickles of her juices across the inside of her thigh and onto the furs below. 

She drew her juice covered finger over the plane of her stomach and locked as with him as it dripped in a thin stream across her pale skin. She moaned loudly watching his stormy blue eues turn black in an instant and listened to the shuddering moan that came from his throat. Her fingers darted back to her bundle of her nerves immediately, furiously working herself in quick circles ready to come. For him. 

“Maker” She heard him groan but he made no movement towards her. He wanted to watch. His full attention was on her, rather than on pleasing himself although she knew he was hard beneath his breeches. She was on the edge of her orgasm and more than anything she needed him to see her tumble over the edge, to let him really know the pleasure she felt. To show him her release and let him know it was him she was thinking about and give him what she knew he wanted although he’d never asked.

“Ahh” She whimpered her eyes closed shut, the coil in her belly about to release. Her muscles shook with anticipation. She wanted to see him when she came. Wanted to watch his reaction. She locked gazes with him once more.  
“Blackwall….” She moaned  
“My lady” He moaned his voice like gravel against her ears. “Come for me” 

She came for him. Hard. His voice was what tipped her over the edge. The raw lust embodied in the whispered growl of those three words. The husky sigh at the end. She threw back her head and her vision went white. Her body shook violently hips arching into the air and crashing down again. She found herself nearly screaming as she felt her inner muscles spasm muttering his name under her breath. She felt a rush of moisture from between her thighs and she shuddered violently as the jerking of her body started to subside. The throb between her legs was still there but this time it wasn’t from frustration or anger. 

Finally she relaxed and her exhausted muscles cause her body to go limp against her furs. Her breathing was harsh and it took a few minutes for her to catch her breath. She opened her eyes, overwhelmingly tired now and met his gaze once more. His eyes gazed at her, still filled with lust. He wanted her so badly. Bur yet he restrained himself from coming closer. As if he knew that although she wanted him more than anything, nothing further was going to happen tonight. She could see then man in front of her, aching, wanting, eyeing her with lust but she also saw the man who waited patiently for approval, gentlemen like in all his conduct, taking only what was given to him. It was hard to keep her eyes open now. She was so tired, overwhelmed from the battle, satiated from coming down from such an intense orgasm. She felt guilty because she knew how he must feel but she couldn’t help but want to sleep. 

“Blackwall” She whispered again, this time her heart aching as she said his name, loving the way it sounded and lazily smiling at him when his lips turned up in his own small grin. She loved him.   
“My lady” He spoke softly, eyes returned to blue, looking upon her with gentleness. “Sleep” He commanded before closing the flap of her tent and withdrawing into the night.


End file.
